What happens at Stanford
by We'llNeverForget
Summary: Some shit happens to Dean. He moves in with Sam and his roommate. Cue sexytimes. AU DESTIEL
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Anyone that was previously following this story, seeing as I had abandoned it before, I decided to change it slightly when I came back to it. You probably won't be able to tell that there's a difference, but I thought I should mention it anyway.**

**CHAPTER 1 **

Dean knew that he shouldn't be driving at this time, especially not at 80 miles per hour on what is normally a highly populated road, but he had to. He had to get away, run away as far and as fast as he possibly could, because now is not the time to be careful and cautious; he could be smart and perceptive some other time, but right now is the time to be angry; it's the time to be horrified and distraught, and reckless. So now, he could drive as fast as he wanted; he could disregard every stop sign and red light if he so pleased to, because for what he had been through, he deserved to do it. He fucking deserved it.

The only problem with a long journey though is that you have too much time to think, too much time to remember and reflect. No matter how hard he tried he really could not stop thinking about it, thinking about them; Lisa - the woman he loved -who he thought had loved him back- and some other man, some other tall, handsome, dark haired man with fair skin, moaning and writhing, grunting in a way that, had the situation been different, Dean probably would've found it attractive; he would have found him attractive. He couldn't stop thinking about this man with Lisa in his bed - in his bed, with his Lisa, where he should be the one with her; the one holding, and caressing her. He should have been the one making love to her; not some assbutt he had never met before.

He could not help thinking that he had done something wrong; that this was his entire fault. That he had driven her into the arms of another man. There was no other explanation for it; it was very probable that it was his entire fault, because if Dean was perfectly honest, he was not always the most faithful boyfriend. He would often take drugs, or drink too much alcohol, and when he got drunk at parties, or even just down the pub, he could not control himself; he would think up the cheesiest pick up line he could before successfully using it to strike a conversation with any girl, and occasional guy, that he found attractive. It was just what he did.

For a second, he thought that he could not blame Lisa for doing what she did, but there was a difference. The difference between what he did while intoxicated, and unaware of his actions and what he stumbled across in his bedroom earlier that day where both participants seemed fully aware and able to appreciate the situation, was that he would never take it any farther than a kiss; he never wanted to take it any further, he wouldn't dream of being with anyone other than Lisa. He had always thought that Lisa was the one, ever since they met; he just momentarily forgot that when he drank too much. So, her actions may not be justified by his, but it was still very likely that this was his entire fault.

That thought did not sit well with him though; he wanted to be angry. He wanted to be livid with Lisa for cheating on him, but he couldn't be. He felt guilty; not just for messing around with other people occasionally, but he thought that it was wrong of him to have just left. He didn't pack any of his things, he never said anything, and he just walked out; Lisa probably never even noticed that he had been there. She was too 'busy' at the time, but she would probably be worried now, wondering where Dean was; why he was not home yet. And that made Dean feel guilty.

Not guilty enough to turn back though. He tried hopelessly to forget about it for the rest of the journey; to just sit, and drive, and not have to worry about anything else, but he couldn't. Sam lived too far away; he would not be there for at least another two hours; he had no chance of keeping his mind off it for that long. Every time he tried to stop thinking about it, it would become clearer, bolder, and more vivid in his mind than ever before. Dean wished that it would go away, but it wouldn't; it was like an instant replay that he could never switch off.

Dean wished that he could just magically appear in Sammy's apartment that very second so that he could just talk with him, tell him everything, and then forget about the whole situation; forget about Lisa, but he knew that was impossible; as much as Dean wished that there was, there is no such thing as magic. Well...at least not that he knew of; 'it would be a nice idea though' he thought. And it would especially be useful for the situation he was in right now, but even if magic did exist, he definitely did not have magical powers and he did not know anyone else who did, so he would have to just sit, drive and wait it out (like any other non-supernatural being) to get to his brother's house.

He was not surprised that he still went to his brother for help at the age of 26. As much as Dean wished that he could handle everything by himself, he always ran to his little brother for advice; Sammy was always very good at cheering Dean up; whenever he missed his mom, Sam was always there to support him, when someone broke his heart in High School, Sammy would bring him Apple pie, and persuade him to just 'forget about them', and Dean would instantly be happier, because he knew that no matter how many people left him, or dumped him, like he was a piece of rubbish, his brother would always be there for him; Sammy always knew how to bring a smile to his face. That is why Sam was the first person Dean thought of when he decided that he had to get away from home; away from Lisa.

Dean feared though that a simple slice of Apple pie and a considerate brother to listen to his pain-filled ramblings would not be enough. He had been with Lisa for well over three years, and he thought they were in love, and that is a lot to just forget about. He would probably have to substitute the pie for a very large bottle of Whiskey. Yes. Getting drunk, forgetting all his problems, and leaving them behind is definitely what he needs right now. If only Sammy didn't live so far away.

Hoping that it would ease the suffering, he stuck a cassette into the tape deck, and sang along quietly as he picked up the speed of his '67 Chevy Impala to 90 miles an hour, and sped down the long, lonely highway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Notes: I've added quite a bit more to this chapter since I first posted it so yeah.**

**CHAPTER 2**

Dean hesitated before knocking on the familiar green door in front of him. He thought for a second that maybe he should have called ahead; let his brother know that he was going to be there. It's not really fair showing up unannounced, but that idea was completely erased from his mind when he realised just how much he had wanted to get away from his own home in the first place.  
>He didn't have to wait more than 30 seconds, after knocking, before Sam answered the door.<br>There was a pause. Sam was shocked to see his older brother standing in front of him. They hadn't even spoken in a few weeks, but happy to see him, Sam smiled and pulled Dean into a hug.  
>"Ah, it's good to see you, Dean" Sam said as he pulled out of the hug. "But, seriously man, are you okay? Lisa called earlier; she said you never went home; you weren't answering your phone. She seemed really worried."<br>For the first time since he answered the door, Sam noticed the look of pain on his older brother's face; he had never seen Dean so disturbed before. "Dean? What's wrong?"  
>Dean remained quiet for a moment, thinking of what to say. Finally, he decided to just go for it and spill everything that had happened. "I did go home." He hesitated before continuing, "Lisa was just too busy to see me."<p>

Dean told his brother about everything that had happened since he had returned home early after work. Sam sat, and listened with a comforting hand on Deans' shoulder; exactly what Dean had expected; Sam wouldn't care if his older had brother turned up on Valentine's Day when he had special plans with his girlfriend, Jess, he would still take care of him because he's family and he loves him.

After a while, Sam convinced Dean to phone Lisa and talk about what had happened, what he had seen; he hoped that they would be able to put their differences aside and realise why they loved each other in the first place. Dean however was not interested in reconciling with his unfaithful girlfriend; he had spent the entire car journey forcing himself to learn how to hate her, and he didn't want to ruin any of his progress on this. He did everything he could to avoid the inevitable phone call, even using the excuse that it seemed tacky and impersonal to talk about such a serious matter over the phone.  
>Dean knew, though, that he would have to talk to her, and getting it over and done with now seemed better than dreading every day knowing that he would have to do it at some point. Reluctantly, he picked up his phone, and dialled Lisa's number. He wished the entire time the phone was ringing that she would not be home, muttering under his breath, 'Don't pick up, don't pick up.' Unfortunately for him, Lisa seemed all too eager to answer the phone. After three rings, Dean heard her gush over the phone, "Dean, where are you? Are you okay? I've been so worried." Dean hesitated before he spoke, because Lisa sounded genuinely terrified for his wellbeing, and that made him remember just how much she loved him, and how much he loved her back, but it was only for a moment. She must not love him enough to stay faithful to him. Eventually, Dean spoke up, "Lisa, I...I'm fine...I'm at Sam's-."<br>Lisa cut him off abruptly, questioning him on why he had left, and why he had not told her; her tone had changed from concerned to angry in mere seconds. Dean hated when she was like this, always jumping at any chance she could to make him seem like the bad guy, but waited it out. When the rant was over, and he could finally get a word in to the conversation, he continued with his explanation. Over the years, he had taught himself how to be more successful when in an argument with Lisa, and so he stated his next point with more confidence than before. The key to winning an argument is to always speak like you've already won the argument.

"Oh, Lisa." he started bitterly. "I came home early today, and I **saw** what you doing. I didn't want to disturb you though, because you seemed far too busy with something else, and I didn't think you would have heard me if I had tried to talk anyway."  
>At first, Lisa acted ignorant to what he had been saying, but eventually, she gave up, and tried to justify her actions with similar excuses to the ones that Dean had thought of in the car journey.<br>Dean began to get fed up, and thought it best to end the call. He told her he thought they should take a break until they can figure out what to do with their relationship "I just need a few days to think. Right now, I don't know if I can forgive you, but I'm thinking…I probably won't."  
>It took everything in Dean's arsenal to keep from breaking during that phone call. When he hung up, he swore and threw his mobile phone away with such force that there was an audible crack and it smashed in to lots of little pieces on the hardwood floor. Dean swore again, before grabbing a large bottle of Whiskey and falling into the couch.<p>

Sam tried his best to distract Dean from his problems for a while by talking to him about everything that had happened at Stanford so far that semester. Dean didn't mind his brother rambling on for ages; he thought it would keep his mind off of Lisa. It was hopeless though. As Sam's voice began to fade, memories of Lisa became brighter. He thought of everything good they had together. He thought of the time they had a picnic in the park a couple years ago. Dean was somewhat opposed at first to the idea, but Lisa had insisted. They went to a nice quiet area in the local park, a small peaceful area away from other people where they could just sit by themselves, under the bright blue sky and the shining sun with nice food, and good conversation, and Dean had actually enjoyed it a lot more than he had expected. In his mind, it was the best date they had ever been on. But that was when they had first got together, and Dean found it quite sad that none of their dates since then were even half as good, and he started to think maybe their relationship had been going downhill ever since the beginning.  
>While Dean was stuck in his thoughts, he had completely missed everything that Sam had been saying, so when his little brother asked him a question, it didn't register with him at all.<br>"Dean!" Sam repeated louder. This caught Dean's attention, and he looked up at his younger brother with a nod and a 'carry on, I'm listening' look on his face.  
>"I said, are you okay? You've been looking a bit distant for quite a while now."<br>Dean waited too long to answer so Sam spoke before him, "It's fine man. You don't have to say anything."

A while later it was coming on 8 o'clock and they were both starving so Sam decided he should go to the store to buy something for dinner. Dean decided to stay at the flat, preferring to drown himself in whiskey than go shopping.  
>Dean in his distressed state tried to drink the entire flat dry of beer and whiskey. He always felt better when he was too hammered to stand up. With this in mind, he grabbed all the alcohol he could find and laid it out in front of him. Fortunately for Dean, it seemed his little brother had recently bought a large case of beer. Dean then proceeded to drink said case of beer before collapsing on the floor of the kitchen. He didn't black out when he fell though. Instead, he laid there for what seemed like forever just thinking about the day's events, wishing that he could just forget them and get on with the lonely, miserable life he had had before meeting Lisa.<br>Dean had been lying of the floor muttering incoherent thoughts that sounded slightly like 'forget about her, just forget about her' for a good ten minutes when he heard the front door open. He thought nothing of it at first, assuming that it was just Sam returning from his trip to the store, but then he heard a deep voice that he didn't recognise. He tried to get up to see who it was, but his body didn't seem to want to follow the orders of his mind, so he just fell back down again and waited for the mysterious figure to find him instead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Notes: Probably the last chapter before the Christmas holiday time. I think I'm using this Fic to procrastinate, so I'll return to it when I'm finished my University applications.  
>I hope you enjoy this chapter. c:<strong>

**CHAPTER 3**

Castiel had previously intended to go straight home after his final lecture of the day. He thought he would just stay at home, lie on the sofa, and watch terrible TV shows until he got tired enough to fall asleep in front of the TV. Some of the other students on his course however had invited him to a big house party later on that night. He wasn't too interested in spending his entire night in the company of many people he doesn't even know, but he had promised himself that he would more sociable this year, and what could be more sociable than going to a house party and getting drunk with loads of other students on a Friday night, right? With that thought in mind, he followed his fellow students out of the lecture hall, and jumped in the car with Ellen, and Jo. Ellen and Jo were the only people at college, besides his flat-mate, that had taken any interest in getting to know him, but he still didn't know if he was allowed to call them his friends yet. He had never really known what level of closeness defined friendship before, and therefore has just referred to them as acquaintances' ever since the first met. A short while later Ellen started the car, backed out of the car park, and began their rather short 5 minute journey to what was already being described by some as 'The party of the year'.

When they got there, Cas quickly realised that he didn't actually know anyone else at the party. Ellen had run into some of her flat-mates when they first arrived and had been talking ever since, and ten minutes later Jo disappeared upstairs with her new boyfriend. So, Cas was left alone in a room full of strangers he was too scared to talk to. He had seen some of them around the campus a few times, and some of them were even in the same lectures as him, but he had never actually spoken to them before. And he wouldn't know what to say to them if he ever did speak to them.

He didn't want to spend the entire party standing in the corner by himself while everyone else is getting drunk, and dancing, and hooking up and having fun, but he didn't know what else he could do. No one would want to ask him to dance. No one ever had before, so why would they now? And definitely no one here would want to hook up with him. Knowing his luck, he's probably the only gay guy at the party. With this in mind Castiel grabbed as many drinks as possible and planned to spend the remainder of the party sitting alone on the cold wet grass outside, hoping the large intake of alcohol would make the party more fun.

By 9pm, Cas was already quite drunk. He had made his way rather impressively through a large chunk of the drinks he had taken from the kitchen, but even his intoxicated state wasn't making the party any better. He had thought a few drinks would give him more self-confidence, make him a little less awkward. He thought maybe he would at the very least be able to talk to a few new people, but right now he just thought people would find him sloppy and clumsy, and didn't think anyone would want to talk to him in this state. They'd probably be too scared he was going to throw up all over them. So, he decided it would be best if he just left the party early and walked home. It was still quite early in the night, so he could probably go home and assume the plans he had decided on earlier that afternoon. At this time of night there would be plenty of rubbish on TV to choose from.

The walk back home, from the party, to his flat was a lot longer than it normally would have been, due to his inability to walk more than a few steps before tripping over and face planting into the grass. But this fact just made him appreciate the warmth and comfort of his own flat even more when he finally wrenched open the front door, and tumbled into the living room.  
>He shouted to his roommate, Sam, to let him know that he was home, before falling on to the couch and reaching for the remote. He picked up the first thing he could find and ended up trying to switch on the TV with a game controller. He laughed at himself for a moment before getting frustrated at his own idiocy. "Dammit!" He muttered to himself "Where did I put the remote"<p>

Desperately trying to find the remote, he shuffled through everything on the table, the papers, and textbooks, dinner plates, and glasses, but there was still no sign of it. He tried to stand up to search elsewhere in the room, thinking it was probably stuck under one the armchairs again, or it might have fallen behind the TV again. But as soon as he moved to stand up he felt a horrible heavy feeling in his throat, like the kind you get just before you throw up. Scared that he might throw up any second, Cas sat back down on the couch and forced himself to stay still until the nausea had subsided.

When he was feeling a little better, he stood back up and started to make his way over to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water and something to eat would make him feel a bit better. At the very least, it might make his hangover tomorrow a bit more bearable. He didn't want to have to spend another whole Saturday lying on the bathroom floor terrified he was going to throw up everywhere.  
>But, he hadn't even taken more than two steps before tripping over his own feet and falling on his hands and knees on the living room floor. He slowly lifted himself back off the ground and made the final few steps over to the kitchen door. He grabbed on to the doorframe for stability and stayed there until he could regain his balance. He leaned against the doorframe with his eyes closed wishing he hadn't drank those last few shots before he left the party. If he hadn't, he would probably be feeling a lot better right now, and he probably would have noticed the live body lying in the middle of his kitchen floor before kicking it and tripping over it on his way to the kitchen sink.<p> 


End file.
